


you and me could write a bad romance

by colonel_bastard



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)
Genre: Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Gags, Hair-pulling, Handcuffs, Lingerie, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonel_bastard/pseuds/colonel_bastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie has a surprise for Seth.  Seth shows his appreciation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you and me could write a bad romance

**Author's Note:**

> written for my fellow trashcan occupant [buckybarnesofficial](buckybarnesofficial.tumblr.com), who was the first one to suggest that Richie Gecko might be a fan of lacy lingerie. as usual, things spiraled quickly out of control from there.

-

-

-

For some goddamn reason, Richie insists on taking the chair. It’s supposed to be a simple smash and grab, bursting into the gas station with ski masks on and guns in the air, coming home with nothing more than the contents of the cash drawer. Then Richie gets all riled up and jumps over the counter so he can coldcock the cashier in the face, and while he’s over there he sees this stupid fucking chair in the back office. It isn’t even a rolling chair, just some wooden piece of crap that looks like it got separated from a dining set about a zillion years ago— but Richie won’t leave the place without it. 

“Aw, c’mon,” he wheedles. “It’ll be hilarious. Let’s steal the cash and the chair and nothing else. Nobody’ll know what the fuck happened.” 

By now Seth has learned better than to disagree with Richie when time is of the essence. He just grabs the pillowcase full of money and Richie grabs the stupid fucking chair and then they’re out of there. He doesn’t say a word about it, not one word, not until they’re back in the relative safety of their rathole apartment. Then he slams the door behind them with all the fury he can muster.

“I hope you’re happy,” he snaps, tossing the loaded pillowcase onto the kitchen counter. “It would’ve been real fucking easy to put out an APB on a getaway car with a fucking chair in the backseat.” 

“I _am_ happy,” Richie preens. 

He drags the chair into the center of their shabby living room and then tips it up onto one back leg, spinning it like a dance partner. The little shit. He’s just pleased with himself because he got what he wanted, _again._ No matter how hard he tries, Seth just can’t say no to him. One of these days that’s going to turn into a huge fucking problem.

“Hey, Seth,” Richie calls, still spinning the chair in front of him. “I forgot to tell you, I have a surprise for you.” 

Seth raises his eyebrows, uncertain if he’s about to be given a gift or shown something terrible. You never can tell with Richie. 

“Oh, yeah?” he wonders, carefully neutral. 

“Uh huh.” 

_Bam._ Richie slams the chair back down onto all four legs with surprising force, planting it so that it faces Seth’s direction. Then he turns his back and starts working on his belt buckle. Seth shifts his weight forward in anticipation. 

He’s not ready for it. 

He’s not ready for Richie to slide his pants slowly down to his ankles, revealing lacy black panties, a sheer black garter belt, and thigh high black stockings with the seams lined up all the way down the backs of his long, long legs. 

“Holy shit,” Seth chokes out. 

Richie looks back over his shoulder as he steps out of his shoes. 

“Oh, you like it?” he wonders innocently. 

With the shoes taken care of, he lifts one foot daintily out of the pool of his trousers, then uses the other to kick the offending garment into the corner. Seth jabs a finger at him, accusatory. 

“Have— have you been wearing this the whole time?”

“Uh huh.”

Richie turns around. He’s still wearing his dress shirt and jacket; up above he’s all business, but from the waist down he’s pure Playboy, his dick already half-hard under the black lace. Seth is paralyzed as he replays the gas station job in his mind. 

“When you jumped the counter... when you beat the shit out of that guy... you were wearing this.”

“Uh huh.” 

Richie sits down in his trophy chair, leans way back, and spreads his legs wide. Seth tries to swallow and finds that his throat has gone dry.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” Richie plays with his bottom lip with his forefinger and thumb, his eyes glittering behind his glasses. “Are you... surprised?” 

Seth takes a moment to enjoy the view. This isn’t the first time Richie has worn shit like this — he’s actually built a small collection — but he’s never worn it outside the bedroom before, let alone out in public, let _alone_ out on a fucking gas station robbery. It’s pushing buttons that Seth didn’t even know he had. 

“Surprised,” he says hoarsely, “is not the word I would use to describe how I’m feeling at the moment.”

Richie arches his stockinged feet up onto their toes, mimicking the shape of high-heeled shoes. Then he lets his mouth go slack, tugging on that bottom lip, making a goddamn spectacle of himself while all the blood in Seth’s body funnels directly into his cock. 

“Okay,” Richie says. “So how are you feeling, Seth?” 

Seth can’t get to him fast enough. Richie never gets up from his seat, just tilts back his head so he can look up at Seth looming over him. Struggling to keep his breathing steady, Seth reaches down and carefully removes the glasses from Richie’s face. Richie blinks owlishly; he’s near-sighted, so Seth knows that he’s just taken on a slight blur around the edges. He stretches over to set the glasses safely on the coffee table, then clears his throat and indicates Richie’s chair. 

“I believe that’s my seat.” 

After a long moment of consideration, Richie gets up slowly, unfolding to the full extent of his two-inch height advantage before stepping aside and gesturing an invitation to sit. When Seth settles down into his new throne, he almost feels like he’s getting strapped into the electric chair. It’s gonna be a hell of a ride. 

“C’mere,” he growls. 

Richie straddles his lap and settles his weight onto Seth’s thighs, his arms looped around the back of Seth’s neck. Seth reaches up to thread his fingers into Richie’s hair, closing on twin fistfuls and giving a fierce, possessive tug.

“Now,” Richie smirks. “Aren’t you glad I took the chair?” 

“Shut up,” Seth says, and he uses his grip on Richie to drag him down into a kiss. 

Richie opens his mouth on contact, ready and eager for Seth’s tongue. They kiss like chaos—reckless and savage and unrestrained, the kind of chaos that creates a universe. They’ve been building this universe since before Seth can even remember, galaxies upon galaxies expanding between them, an entire cosmos with a population of two. 

“Seth,” Richie gasps against his lips. “Ah, _Seth._ ”

Seth moves his hands down along Richie’s face and curls them around his throat, giving a firm, forceful squeeze that makes Richie gasp and shudder. From there Seth slides his fingers over the collar of his shirt, and without breaking the kiss he starts undoing the buttons, working his way down the length of Richie’s body. All the while Richie keeps rolling his hips in Seth’s lap, grinding their erections together through the black lace and black pants that keep them apart. 

With a flourish, Seth flips Richie’s shirt and jacket open, exposing the sheer garter belt across his belly. Richie never stops kissing him, and he only lets Seth slide the clothes off one arm at a time, so he always has one hand free to rake through Seth’s hair. 

The shirt and jacket hit the floor. Now Richie’s wearing nothing but the lingerie, and Seth feels like he’s going to have an aneurysm if he doesn’t relieve the pressure building in his dick within the next five minutes. As if he can sense his distress, Richie reaches down between them and fumbles with Seth’s belt buckle, pulling it open blind like he’s done a hundred times before. Seth is so tangled up in kissing him that he almost loses his balance when Richie finally pulls away. 

“Fuck, Richie,” Seth gasps, running his hands over Richie’s thighs. “You drive me crazy.” 

He hooks a finger under one of the garter straps and snaps it against the tender skin. Richie hisses with pleasure. 

“You’re goddamn right I do,” he says. “I’m the best piece of ass you’re ever gonna get.”

Seth slips his hands around to grab Richie’s ass through the black silk ruffles. 

“Prove it,” he whispers, and he can see in Richie’s eyes that the challenge has been accepted.

The next thing he knows, Richie is gliding backwards out of his lap, spilling out of the chair and down to the floor. He nudges Seth’s legs apart and kneels between them, and when he gives an insistent tug on Seth’s pants, Seth arches up from the seat so he can pull them low enough to free his aching cock. Breathing hard, Seth grabs a handful of Richie’s hair and twists his head up to meet his eyes. 

“Hey, buddy?”

“Yes, Seth?”

“Make it good.”

“I always do.” 

And Richie is true to his word. He takes him in to the hilt on his first go, sucking him down his throat while Seth emits a long, faltering groan that tapers off to the rhythm of Richie’s bobbing head. Seth’s got both hands in his hair now, yanking him down again when he tries to pull back, savoring the way Richie struggles to breathe. Richie loves it like this, loves it rough and ugly, loves finding the bruises all over his body the next morning. The more it hurts, the harder Richie gets off, and Seth will not be satisfied with anything less than getting him off like a fucking grenade. 

“Take it,” he snarls, shoving himself in Richie’s mouth, congratulating himself on Richie’s red face and watering eyes. “Take all of it. You wanna dress like a bitch, you’re gonna get fucked like a bitch.” 

It’s taking every ounce of strength and willpower not to come yet. Richie’s eyes are rolling in his skull, and when Seth looks down he can see him rubbing himself through his panties, grinding the heel of his hand against his straining cock. Seth lets him choke until he thinks he can’t take anymore, then finally takes his hands away. Richie reels back, coughing and gagging, struggling to catch his breath. Seth can feel his own skull throbbing in time with his heartbeat. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he pants. “I want to fuck you first. You want me to fuck you?”

“No, Seth,” Richie pants back. “I got all dressed up in my best Victoria’s Secret just so I could have the pleasure of sucking your cock.” 

“Okay, well, you can sass me,” Seth shrugs. “Or you can get your ass into that bedroom.”

Richie doesn’t have to be told twice. Seth is hot on his heels. 

“On your back,” he commands. “I want to see those pretty little panties on you.” 

Richie sprawls supine on the bed, his belly heaving up and down with his rapid breathing. Seth can see the head of his cock peeking out from under the black lace. He takes his time getting undressed; tossing off his jacket, stepping out of his trousers, all while Richie pants and squirms with impatience. Finally Seth strips off his shirt and approaches the bed at a leisurely pace. 

“Jesus, Seth!” Richie finally explodes. “Sometime today!”

Seth grins and climbs up onto the bed beside him, rubbing one palm over his taut, trembling belly, his thumb slipping under the band of the garter belt. 

“It looks real nice, buddy,” he says. “In fact, I’d hate for my view to be spoiled by your hands getting in the way.” 

He reaches over and grabs the handcuffs off the nightstand. When he turns back around, Richie already has his wrists threaded through the iron rails of the headboard, his expression almost ridiculously eager. He’s earned it. After that stunt with the lingerie, he deserves the star treatment. As Seth leans down to cuff his hands to the headboard, Richie leans up to lavish an adoring kiss on his mouth. 

Seth stays there kissing him until he feels Richie’s knee nudge him in the ribs, his legs open and begging to be filled. He smiles and crawls into the space between them, moving in close until Richie’s thighs are wrapped around his hips. Then he sits back and savors that view— Richie’s head thrown back, his mouth open and panting, his hips thrusting shallowly at the air. 

“Fuck, Seth,” he wheezes. “Fuck. _Fuuuuuck._ ” 

“Is that a command or a request?” 

“Both. Fuck me.”

Seth leans forward and grabs him roughly by the jaw. 

“You don’t tell me what to do. You ask.”

Richie moans. “Will you fuck me?”

Seth gives him a shake. “Ask _nicely._ ”

“ _Agh,_ ” Richie squeezes his eyes shut, ecstatic. “Will you _please_ fuck me, Seth?”

Seth keeps the one hand on his throat and runs the other all the way along the length of his body, curving his palm over Richie’s cock while Richie shakes and whimpers, his legs tightening around Seth’s waist. Reaching down between his legs, Seth gathers the crotch of the panties in his fist — taking one second to rub his knuckles against the underside of Richie’s balls — then yanks hard. The lace splits apart over one hip; that’s all Seth needs, and he twists the remaining garment to the side and out of his way. 

Richie cants up his hips with an anxious whine. Seth gives his impatient ass a slap. 

“Hold your horses, I’m getting there.”

He leans over and tugs open the nightstand drawer to grab the lube. Lube, yes; prep, no. That’s how Richie likes it and Seth isn’t complaining; it saves him a lot of time and makes for a tighter fit. As he greases up his dick, Richie can’t stop talking. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” he whines, straining against the handcuffs. “I’m dying, I’m not gonna make it, c’monnn...”

“Are you gonna make this much noise the whole time?” Seth wonders.

Richie licks his lips wickedly. “I’m gonna scream so loud that our neighbors call the cops.” 

“That’s pretty fucking stupid, considering we’re wanted for armed robbery.”

“I don’t care. I’m gonna scream and you can’t stop me.”

At that, Seth’s voice turns dangerously light. “Wanna bet?”

Raking his nails down Richie’s hip, Seth grabs what’s left of the panties and tears them off completely. Richie gasps and jerks against him, startled. The lace is damp from rubbing against Richie’s leaking dick, and Seth takes a moment to bring them up to his face, inhaling deeply through his nose. Then he looks down at Richie’s trapped form. 

“Open your mouth,” he says softly. 

Richie bites down on his lower lip and shakes his head, defiant. Seth leans down and uses his free hand to pinch one of Richie’s nipples between his fingernails. 

“I said, open your mouth.”

Richie does, just long enough to blurt out, “Make me.” 

Just like that, Seth’s hand jumps from Richie’s nipple to his cock, and Richie is so surprised that his mouth pops open wide enough for Seth to jam the panties inside. He stuffs them in as thoroughly as he can, until Richie’s cheeks are distended with the bulk of them, his indignant squawks transformed into muffled grunts. 

Seth doesn’t even give him time to process what’s happening. In the next instant he throws Richie’s legs up over his shoulders, lines up his cock at his unprepped entrance, and rams himself inside with all his strength. 

And Richie screams at the top of his lungs.

Gagging him was the best possible decision. Seth can only hear the raw, shrill echo of the cry, smothered under a wad of black lace and silk while Richie’s face turns blood red with the effort. The first thrust is always his favorite; it hurts the most. Before he has too much time to regain himself, Seth pulls back and rams him again, earning a second scream almost as potent as the first. He’s so fucking _tight_ — Seth is seeing stars on every rebound. He pounds him hard and fast for as long as he can take it, just until it looks like Richie’s about to pass out from oxygen deprivation; then he buries himself in deep and just folds down over him, just to be close to him. 

“You like that, buddy?” he pants, brushing the sweat-soaked hair from Richie’s forehead. “Is that good?”

Richie, desperately sucking in air through his nose, manages to nod his reeling head. Then he digs his heels into Seth’s back and pulls him, impossibly, even deeper, his eyes rolling over white as he does so. Seth hears an erratic jangling sound and looks up to see Richie tugging sporadically, instinctively against the handcuffs. When he looks down he sees him trying to rub his cock against Seth’s belly. Handcuffing him was definitely the second best possible decision. 

“What’s the matter?” Seth asks, feigning confusion. “Do you need something?”

Richie groans in the affirmative, his hips twitching helplessly. Seth allows one hand to wander down along the span of his belly. 

“Did you want me to, uh, give you a hand with this?”

Richie nods his head frantically, and through his gag Seth can hear the staccato rhythm of wordless begging. He grazes his fingertips against Richie’s cock and Richie surges against him, nodding, nodding, _please, please,_ his hands twisting wildly in their restraints. 

Then Seth jerks his hand away, grinning.

“Nah,” he says. “Not yet.” 

This time the gag muffles a wail of anguish. 

Seth braces himself and goes back to fucking him hard while Richie writhes and snarls and fights against the handcuffs. Shifting their positions, Seth finds an angle that lets him hit the prostate— Richie’s head thrashes from side to side and he howls, the panties containing the sound but not the drool dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. The kid’s a mess of fluids, from the frustrated tears leaking out of his eyes to the swollen cock leaking all over his stomach. It’s goddamn gorgeous.

Seth won’t be able to last much longer.

“Okay, buddy,” he grunts. “You ready to finish this?”

Richie gurgles and nods tearfully, every inch of him throbbing in agony and anticipation, every muscle stretched to the breaking point. Seth adjusts the legs over his shoulders, tapping Richie’s thighs and murmuring, “hold on tight.” He can feel Richie cross his ankles behind his back, locking on. Then Seth grabs a handful of Richie’s hair with his left hand, and with his right he reaches down between them and finally takes hold of Richie’s cock. 

And they’re off. 

Richie arches up like a bowstring as Seth plows into him, fucking him good and rough while he pulls his hair and jerks him off. It’s heaven on earth, and for just a little while, nothing else in the world seems to matter— not the money, not the cops, not even the creeping, awful suspicion that Richie is growing into something he might not always be able to control. Right now all that matters is how good, how really, truly, fucking _good_ it feels to be so _connected_ to another human being. A dozen ex-girlfriends and one ex-wife later and he knows he’ll _never_ know anyone the way he knows Richie. It’s a once in a lifetime connection, and you don’t just walk away from something like that. 

“Come for me, bitch,” Seth growls, loving him more than he’s ever loved anything. “I want to see you come all over yourself.” 

He’s absurdly pleased when Richie obeys, his body seizing up and his chained hands clawing uselessly at the air while his cock spasms in his brother’s hand, splattering his release all over his belly. Seth finishes right behind him, emptying himself into Richie, giving him everything he’s got. _For you, buddy. It’s all for you._

For a long time they just lie there tangled up in each other. Then, when he returns to his senses, Seth pulls himself out of Richie with a low, weary groan. Richie is breathing hard and lying very still, his eyes closed, equally drained. Seth reaches up and gently extracts the panties from his brother’s mouth; Richie moans as his aching jaw finally closes again. Grabbing the key from the nightstand, Seth crawls up to the headboard to take the handcuffs off. He pops one open and brings the bruised, naked wrist up to his mouth for a reverent kiss. 

“You did good, buddy,” he murmurs. “You did real good.”

“Yeah?” Richie wheezes. “You’re not just saying that?”

Seth releases the other wrist and kisses it, too. “I’m not just saying it. Now come here.” 

Settling back against the headboard, Seth pulls the exhausted Richie into his arms, loving the way that his brother collapses against him, utterly spent. He uses the corner of the nearest pillowcase to wipe his face and mouth, then pets Richie’s hair and nuzzles his sweaty forehead with gentle, reassuring kisses. That was a rough scene; he wants to make sure that Richie’s all right. He’d hate to make him even more fucked up than he already is.

“It’s you and me, brother,” he whispers to him. “It’s just you and me and that’s how it’s gonna be, all right? I’m not going anywhere.” 

Richie sighs and burrows up against him with a mumble of, “fuck, man, why don’t you buy me some flowers and chocolates while you’re at it, you sissy.”

Seth tweaks his ear and Richie gives a petulant yelp, then rolls over and gropes for the opposite nightstand, where a bottle of whiskey waits for them. He brings it back onto the bed and takes a swig, then offers it to Seth. Seth drinks deep. His post-orgasm drowsiness is starting to swim up around his senses, and he’s not long for consciousness. 

“Do me a favor,” he yawns. “Next time you’re wearing your frilly things on the job, I want to know about it.”

“Sure,” Richie giggles. “I’ll bend over and flash you my thong, how’s that?”

“Sounds good.”

He takes another swig of whiskey and leans his head back, his eyes falling closed of their own accord. A moment later he sits bolt upright when Richie makes a high-pitched noise of distress. 

“What? What is it?”

Richie is examining his legs with a critical expression, and when he sees Seth looking, he furiously points at a series of runs in his stockings. 

“Fuck, Seth,” he whines. “This was my favorite pair!” 

Seth flops back onto the bed, grinning helplessly at the ceiling. Richie’s a real piece of work, but he’s Seth’s _favorite_ piece of work, and for now, that’s enough. 

“I’ll buy you some new ones,” he chuckles. 

Richie gives an indignant sniff in response. 

“You’re goddamn right you will.” 

And Seth knows he’ll hold him to it. 

 

 

 

______________end.


End file.
